The Sly And The Family Stone show in Lovebox and the gigs that preceded it have provoked some pretty interesting responses. Over at the Uncut festivals blog, someone called Alex notes, "Yes it's casualty soul funk - still better than the my little twat club etc (Not sure exactly what he's on about here, but stick with it) who can barely put a riff together. At least the yoof can hear how it should be done - that session band were tight as hell - and maybe we'll get some decent new bands coming through." Dillon, meanwhile, merely writes, "Can Someone say FREEKSHOW?"

The Sly And The Family Stone show in Lovebox and the gigs that preceded it have provoked some pretty interesting responses. Over at the Uncut festivals blog, someone called Alex notes, “Yes it’s casualty soul funk – still better than the my little twat club etc (Not sure exactly what he’s on about here, but stick with it) who can barely put a riff together. At least the yoof can hear how it should be done – that session band were tight as hell – and maybe we’ll get some decent new bands coming through.” Dillon, meanwhile, merely writes, “Can Someone say FREEKSHOW?”

Over at my Mog page,Michael Goldberg suggests that Sly was pulling a similar routine in the ’80s, and is ostensibly carrying on where he left off. Ms Rosalita seems pretty incensed. “I was there – it was TERRIBLE,” she writes. “It was a ‘Sly’ tribute show – he only came on stage for two tracks… meanwhile, some big hot shot American music lawyer rakes in the cash for this booking. Sad. Rest of the festival was great tho!”

One more opinion, and it’s a good one. My colleague Gavin Martin puts his extensive thoughts down at his Glastonbury Of The Mind blog.

Not much time for a proper review, today: I’m working hard with the excellent new PJ Harvey album, and should have something on that in the next couple of days, plus the Devendra Banhart record will be with us properly any time now. In the meantime, here’s one of those swift office playlists I resort to in times like this: